


we were a song, but i lost the lyrics

by sodakooh



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Death, Heavy Angst, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I cried when writing this, Lung Cancer, M/M, Poor Katsuki Yuuri, i hate myself for writing this, well shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 16:30:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9333464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodakooh/pseuds/sodakooh
Summary: "hey, Viktor, are you there?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> why do i do this to myself?
> 
> also, lowercase intended!!  
> because the one word that is capitalized has a special meaning ;)
> 
>  
> 
> okay, you may proceed.

it used to be kind of funny.

i remember the first time i did it.

we were both standing in the rink, and he was rambling about something I didn't pay attention to. that was when i placed my finger right where his grey, silky hair split down the side.

i had started to panic because i thought he would find me weird for doing something so strange. i was comforted later that day, however, as he told me that what i did was quirky and he kind of liked it.

for the following years, it was a joke that i would pull from my sleeves at random moments. it sometimes even evolved into tying his hair during the night and taking a picture of his reaction. it slowly became harder to tie his hair without waking him up, especially since he started growing it out again.

 

i remember when i accidentally discovered something; a kink.

one day, we were having sex and i accidentally gripped at his hair while thrusting into him. i remember the effect it had on him; extreme pleasure and ecstasy. i then learned that he had an extreme liking to that kind of thing.

 

i remember the time we spent on the ice.

he was always so elegant in the way he performed. his body swayed and moved perfectly, his hair flowing and moving the exact same way. even though we were technically against each other in competitions, behind the scenes, we would work together to plot the perfect routines and to refine our movements.

he always praised me for a certain thing; my stamina. he would say things about how i can practice my routines more times than him without getting out of breath, and that he was jealous.

i'd tell him how there were so many things that he was better at than me. we'd always end up competing with each other to find who had more good qualities.

back then, nobody ever won.

 

now, as i reflect on it, it was him.

_it was him._

because i am such a bad person for not noticing it sooner.

 

i remember the first time i noticed something was different.

we had just practiced our couple routine for the first time that day, and i went to go and restart the music. as i turned around to look at him to ask if he was ready, he was bent over, one hand on his knee, the other over his mouth. he was having a coughing fit.

i had asked him is he was alright, but he just dismissed it as him getting over a cold.

i nodded, and we proceeded to resuming our practice.

 

i remember the second time it happened.

since him and i lived in an apartment together, we had to travel a few staircases to reach our home. we just finished going grocery shopping, so we each held equal amounts of bags as we walked up the stairs. i had walked further ahead than him, and when i turned around to ask him if he had the keys, he was halfway down the stairs, heavily breathing.

i went back down to help him with the rest of the bags, and asked him what was the matter. he told me nothing.

 

i don't know if i just didn't realize it or it suddenly got to an extreme case, but i remember when i almost lost him.

we were at the grand prix final, and i was supposed to go up to perform next. he had told me earlier that day that he would walk with me to the rink.

i started walking in front of him, removing my earbuds that played my routine music.

  
that's where i made the big mistake.

  
that's when i heard the violent coughing and wheezing coming from behind me.

i turned around just to see him fall onto the ground, pale as a ghost. his hand was over his mouth, shaking as he coughed. i ran up to him, panic striking me hard.

i asked him what happened, and all he did was look at me with fear in his eyes as he showed me his hand;

_bloody._

his face suddenly twisted and he gripped at his chest, making strangled and pained noises. there were a few people starting to stop and stare at us, but nobody did anything.

that's when i heard a familiar voice call out my and his names. i looked up to see phichit running over and crouching down next to us, his face slightly red since he had just finished his performance. without even trying to understand what was happening, he took his phone and dialed 061--the barcelona emergency ambulance number.

he had started coughing up more blood, and his tremors got worse. i even noticed how his bright blue eyes had become cloudy and filled with tears.

i didn't know what to do. all i could think of was to try and comfort him by holding his hand.

"you're going to be okay. i promise, alright? you're going to be okay," i said, trying not to cry in front of him. i was most likely saying it to myself.

i could hear phichit in the background, telling people to leave. i didn't pay him much attention.

instead, i stayed crouched down, hot liquid rolling down my cheeks as i tried my best to help him until the ambulance arrived.

 

i remember when i found out.

the doctor and i were sitting in an all-white room, and the only splashes of colour were her tanned skin, the clipboard, and the dying plant in the corner.

she had flipped through the sheets attached to the clipboard, then looked up at me.

"you're mr. yuri katsuki-nikiforov, right?" she had asked me.

i nodded.

"i'm very sorry to say this, mr. katsuki-nikiforov, but your husband has stage 3 cancer in both his lungs."

that's when i stopped listening. it was too much for me.

the doctor kept speaking, but nothing was processed. i couldn't hear her--no, _i didn't want to hear her._

god knows how long i sat there, silently staring at the dying plant, but i only came back to my senses when i felt a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"mr. katsuki-nikiforov?"

i looked up at the doctor, who's face was the same as the one you would have when looking at a hurt puppy.

"mr. katsuki-nikiforov, we can try to perform surgery on your husband, but it will be hard, considering the cancer has spread very close to some of his vital organs. If the surgery goes well, we will also start chemotherapy to get rid of any remaining cancer cells."

i nodded.

"okay, good. i'm going to need you to. . ."

the doctor kept talking, and i listened only enough to sort of understand what she was saying.

 

i remember the day i lost him.

it was the day that he was supposed to go and get the surgery. nobody other than the doctors and the patient were allowed in the room, so i sat outside the room on an extremely uncomfortable chair.

it felt like hours passed. i would alternate between sitting, pacing, and simply standing still.

just when i had restarted the rotation once again, i heard noises from inside the room--almost like indistinct shouting.

i panicked. what was going on?

almost 10 minutes later, someone came out of the room; one of the doctors.

i stood up immediately, looking at him with what i can guarantee was the most desperate look i've ever had.

the doctor simply looked at me with a sad face, then shook his head. "i'm sorry, mr. katsuki-nikiforov. he's. . ."

i didn't need him to finish his sentence. i had already started crying, the ache in my chest growing more and more powerful.

the doctor kept speaking, but i, once again, didn't hear him.

he started walking back to the door, then held it open for me.

the only thing i saw before turning away was his face--his eyes closed as if he was asleep, his slightly pale, porcelain skin, and his long hair fell around his head like a halo.

i didn't want to look anymore. i was afraid that if i did, his death would be real.

 

as i write this, i'm sitting in the sand, watching the ocean. this is where we scattered his ashes.

i've heard that if you scatter ashes in a location where your loved one liked, they would live on there. i don't know if that's true or not.

either way, i guess i'll try something.

 

"you know, everybody misses you. makkachin, too. chris has come over a few times and we've spent some time talking.

yurio softened up, which was a weird thing to adjust to, haha. oh, and he also won the grand prix finals."

 

". . . "

 

**"hey, Viktor, are you there?"**


End file.
